Growing Strong
by rainbowguard
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester find themselves in the small town of Opal, Wyoming, following a lead. But what they thought was a regular job might soon turn into something much, much bigger than them.
1. Small Town Schenanigans

"Another creepy case. Awesome." Dean sighed, closed his eyes and rubbed them with his right hand. He muttered "I need a drink".

He and Sam had just arrived to Opal, Wyoming, a town so small they had had to get a motel room in another town, a few miles down the road.

Sam had already started talking to various policemen, and now made his way back to Dean. Bobby had suggested they go back on the road, back to the job, get their mind out of all the crazy things that had happened to them. He had brandished a newspaper under their noses. "The Dead are walking", it said. True, it also said that Elvis was still alive, and that some people had seen a blue box roaming the skies, but Bobby was adamant : Sam and he needed to hunt.

And hunt they wanted, but, so far, there was no clear sign of anything supernatural, and Dean really wanted to go to bed with a bottle of whiskey on his nightstand. He would have settled for zombies though, would have tried to make Sammy laugh with his stupid jokes and bad movies trivia. And, he reasoned, he would have been able to use his father's old axe and cut some bones. __Awesome__.

"Apparently", said Sam, getting closer, "the inhabitants witnessed some sort of spirit gathering a few nights ago. Coroner said the morgue was missing bodies."

"Was ? Missing bodies ?"

"Here's the interesting part : they were found a few hours later lying all over town. And when the police got them back to the morgue, it happened again. And again."

"Okay. How many bodies ?"

"All of them."

Dean's eyes opened wide. "All of them ? What, they've been stolen ? Somebody's having a sleepover and they got lost?"

Sam chuckled. "Um, no. According to him, every entry was sealed tight. Padlocks on every door and window. The only damage was made from within."

"Wow. Okay. So, do you really think we have some zombies on our hands, Sammy ?"

"I don't know. I mean, there was no violence, no-no blood, no nothing. According to the people who saw them, they didn't seem at all interested in them. They just walked, aimlessly, before falling back down. And they started over and over until they just- poof."

"They lost half a dozen bodies ? Vanished ?"

"It appears so." Sam frowned. "We could be looking at a witch situation. You know, creating … Minions, or something."

"Minions ? Sam, you watch too much TV."

As they talked, they made for the car, but Dean soon stopped when he noticed the woman leaning against his chevy impala. He groaned. "The Hell ?"

He couldn't not stare : she was glorious. Rather short, blond, curvy. She had one of those faces you only see once in a lifetime, but could never forget afterwards. She looked foreign, even though Dean couldn't tell why. She had her hands inside her pockets, looking at them, one at a time. Her gaze stopped more often on Dean than on Sam, probably because he scowled at her. She had big dark green eyes that smiled even now, when she was not. Like she knew something they didn't.

When Dean got close, he barked : "You'd better have a good explanation as to why you're sitting on my car, lady." Sam towered close next to him, looking down at her. She, on the other hand, did not look impressed, and instead, smiled widely. It confused and dazzled Dean, who had to make an effort to look cross and intimidating.

"Calm down, mate." A british accent. __Damn__, Dean thought, the sound of it going straight to his heart. "I only wanted to know what you'd found out about this grisly story."

Sam answered her, completely unfazed. Dean was too absorbed in trying not to notice the girl's hips fighting to get out of her pants.

"Just someone playing a joke, ma'am. Nothing more."

"A joke ?" __God damn__. Dean shook his head, to try and recover some of his cool.

"What are you, lady ? Press ?"

She laughed. "No. Are you ?"

Sam and Dean shared a look, and took out their fake badges at the same time. "Agents Francis and Scott. FBI."

"FBI ? You two ?" She looked at them, intensely amused. "Is that how you get into cases ? Telling people FBI and showing these ?"

Sam and Dean again shared a quick look. "Are you implying that we are not federal agents ?"

"I am saying that your suit is too short" she glanced at Sam, then at Dean. "and __your__ suit is too roomy. And that they look, and probably are, cheap. Which, of course, is not in the Bureau's wardrobe directory. Plus, your badges look fake, and outdated. You should really get that checked out. And" she gestured towards the car with her head. "this is not an FBI car, far from it. Too -" she looked for a word for a second, looking up. "tacky."

"My car, tacky ?" She was starting to piss Dean off. Seriously. Sam tried to get between the two of them, and stated. "We use our own."

She reluctantly looked away from Dean to Sam. "Federal Agents never do. Something about compagny policy, and perhaps the price of gas."

"I do what I damn well please, lady." Dean growled, and the girl's eyes were on him again, piercing through him. "Now, are you going to tell us who you are, or are we going to have to make you ?"

Sam glanced at his brother for a second, then back to the girl. He knew that Dean had not been himself recently, and he wanted to make sure he wouldn't lose it on her. She was a pain, sure, but there were other ways to handle it.

"Oh, but I'd like to see you make me." She smiled mischievously, and one eyebrow raised. She made to stand up straight, and started to leave towards the scene. "Well, I'll leave you to it then. Good luck." Her voice rang like a bell inside Dean's mind, and he grabbed her arm. "I still don't know who you are."

She slowly looked down from his face to his hand, and back to his face. Dean felt like he had been burned, and released her from his grip. His jaw tightened as she stood there and stared. "Well," she said, after what seemed like an eternity, "they say good things come to those who wait. Be patient, and I'll be good." She winked at them both, turned around and walked away, hips swaying, hands still in her pockets, her big black boots hitting the pavements with loud clattering sounds. Mistrust was radiating from Sam, but it seemed to Dean that all he could do at this very moment was look at her butt.

He heard Sam's snort. "Dude. She comes at us and plays with us, and you're checking her out ?" With an apologetic shrug, Dean answered : "What ? She's hot."

* * *

><p>Back in their motel room, the Winchesters brothers were knee deep in research. Dean had gone on a beer and burger trip, and was now devouring a slice of pecan pie as his brother read their father's journal. They had already decided against ghouls, ghosts, and witches. They were still unclear on zombies, though, as they had witnessed several kinds of them. Amanda Mason, for example, had needed staking in her tomb, while when they were in Sioux Falls, they had only needed a bullet to their head. In other words, they were in the dark. They couldn't predict when it would happen again, <em><em>if<em>_ indeed it was going to happen again, or where, or why. They had said so to Bobby, who sounded unsure of what to say on the phone. Dean ran his hands in his hair, over and over, extremely frustrated. He stared at his half empty bottle of beer. So far, the only trigger they found was an explosion at a nearby gas factory, but, as there were no casualty, they had ruled out any connection.

Slowly, unwillingly, Dean groaned. "We need to find the girl." Sam looked up from the journal to his brother, who was looking back, unflinching. "She knows something, man."

"Is this your dick talking ?" Sam tried humour to defuse the heavy atmosphere around them. "Bite me." Dean jokingly answered, with the shadow of a smile on his lips. They both smiled for a second before Sam added "Yeah, you're right. She knew we weren't feds, she knew about the case, who knows what else she knows. Maybe she can help."

"No." Sam opened his mouth to protest Dean's refusal, but he shook his head. "No, Sam. We don't need help. We need answers, and then she can go."

"Or stay." Sam watched his brother's frown turn into a look of surprise. "All I'm saying is she made an impression on you. Maybe she could stick with us for a couple of hunts, if that's what she does."

"So she can leave after we grew to like her ? So she can die on our watch ?" Dean's voice rose dangerously, and his quick temper got the best of him. He scowled, and closed down almost immediately. Sam sighed, closed the journal, and decided to go to bed.

* * *

><p>The next day, Dean woke up with a start. It took him a second to remember where he was, and that Sammy was here. He had gone to bed in the early hours of the morning, and had fallen asleep just before dawn ; and yet, he was the first to rise. He sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his face to try and get sleep out of his features. He had slept with his clothes on, atop the blanket, and with his gun under the pillow : a habit he had picked up since getting back up. He stood up, his head slightly aching, and jumped into the shower. The water was cold and the pressure disappointing, but he scrubbed himself clean with a fervor that scared him a little. He didn't want to think about Hell, but he felt he had come back soiled and in pieces. Dean gritted his teeth, and tried to think about the blond from yesterday, but he soon realised it was a bad idea, and had to turn down the water's thermostat even more.<p>

Once Sam had woken up (Dean had been watching some stupid show about doctors and love triangles), and they had both eaten and were ready to leave, they got into the car and headed straight for the morgue. They had decided that it was their best chance at finding the girl, considering they had met her there. Sam would do the talking, as usual, as Dean would try and find any scrape of info he could get from the room. They were greeted with good humor and familiarity.

"We're looking for a woman, around 5'5", maybe 5'6". Blond. Speaks with a thick british accent."

"Yeah, her." The guy's face lit up at once, and he grinned. "She was there, yesterday."

Sam pressed him. "Did she give you an address, or a way to contact her ?"

"Nope. Wasn't for lack of trying, though." The man's accent was starting to get on Dean's nerves, and he had to pull away for a minute. He pretended to look around the morgue at the empty sliding tables, and the junk on the trays. Sam, however, was not done. "Did you see where she went, did she say anything to you ?"

The Doctor, a stout and hunky man in his late thirties, frowned and looked from Sam to Dean, and back to Sam. "Is she in some kind of trouble ?"

Dean went back to them, and looked him in the eye. "Did she tell who she was ?"

"She didn't tell me nothing, not even her damn name. Why ? Is she responsible for this ?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but Sam cut him short and stated "We're just trying to get to the bottom of this, doc. Anything you could tell us would be extremely helpful to our investigation.". Sam had always had a way with people. Whether it was his words, his posture, Dean didn't know. But if his brother wanted something out of you, he sure as heck would get it.

"We've only talked for a second. She wanted to know where the old factory was, and the story that went with it. I'm kind of an expert on the matter actually." the doctor added, proudly.

"I guess we're going to the factory too, then."


	2. Motel Room Explanations

Some time later, Sam and Dean were looking at what used to be a fully functioning gas factory until a few days ago. Everything had been burnt to ashes, and what little had been left standing was useless to them. The explored the area all the same, trying to find something, anything, to tie them to the girl, find what she'd been searching for. The whole thing was a bust, however, and they left feeling both frustrated and disappointed. They agreed to go to the local bar and put some food in their stomach. Sam hoped someone could identify the girl there, but Dean felt too exhausted, and concentrated on the road and the reassuring noises coming out of his impala.

A few minutes later, Sam was sitting down at a table, half drinking, half looking through the window, while Dean was interrogating the bartender and a couple of clients. If anybody saw her, they were unwilling to tell ; and Dean was too upset to press them. He grabbed his drink and joined Sam at the table, sulking. They tried again after their meal, in the streets and in the shops, but had no luck. An old woman had grabbed Sam's arm and whispered "she glimmered!" before hurrying back home. Sam coughed, uncomfortable, and Dean smirked, making fun of his brother. All in all, it had been a tiring day, and they only wanted to go back to their room, watch bad tv, and maybe consider leaving this town. When they got to the motel, though, they found the door to their lodgings ajar, and light coming in from inside. Dean grabbed his gun from his pocket and got in lifting it towards the intruder.

"Oh, hello boys. I heard you were looking for me."

She was sitting down at the table, facing them as Sam and Dean cautiously got closer. She had been reading newspapers, waiting for them for come back. Dean's eyes went straight to their dad's journal, and she followed the movement. "Don't worry" she said "I haven't touched your precious book. I am a rather respectful person."

"Says the girl who broke in the room." Sam pointed out. She only laughed. "I ask the manager to let me in, he was happy to help." Dean grunted loudly. He needed to have a word with him, then.

"Why are you here ?" "You were the ones looking for me." She smiled sweetly under Sam and Dean's gaze, and got up to face them. "So, what can I do for you gentlemen ?"

"You could start with a name." "And how's my name going to help ?"

"Cut the bullshit, lady." Dean's anger resonated through his vocal cords, making his voice shake slightly. "Who are you, and what are you doing here ?"

"I'm looking for the same things that you are. The things that inhabited the bodies. The things that took them." Sam and Dean looked at each other. "You know what those things are ?" "Oh, yes, of course. They're the Gelth."

"The what ?" Sam frowned, sounding skeptical. "The Gelth." she repeated. "That's what they're called. Creatures made of gas, well, they were when I met them. But they used to have a roughly humanoid form." She said it all matter-of-factly, as if this was the most logical thing. But Sam and Dean were lost. "What kind of monster are they ?" Dean inquired, gloom in his voice. "Monsters ?" The girl looked surprised, her eyes wide. She looked sad for a second. "Oh, my God. What happened to you ?" she whispered, almost to herself. Dean was about to demand that she identify herself when she seemed to stand straighter, all emotion drained from her eyes. "My name's Rose. Rose Tyler. I'm with Torchwood." "What's Torchwood ?" asked Sam, as Dean lowered his gun, but kept it close. Rose looked at him, then at Sam, and took a deep breath, smiling a little. "Torchwood, or Torchwood Institute, is a British organization founded to protect the British Empire against potential extraterrestrial threats, and to help repurpose the alien technology falling on Earth." She said it all really fast, like it was something she had learnt by heart. She paused for a second, and, seeing the puzzled looks she got from the Winchesters, she added : "Basically, we, um – we hunt Aliens."

Dean gulped down his second glass of whiskey. He had needed to sit down after Rose's speech, and he looked positively green. Sam had opened his mouth to speak at least a dozen times since then, but nothing ever came out of it. He was holding onto Dean's chair as tightly as he could to keep from falling. To keep the Earth from spinning, Dean guessed. God knows it was spinning way too fast for him. After a long period of silence, all he could say was "Aliens ?". "Yeah." The answer came from the other side of the room. The Tyler girl was standing against the window, looking out. She had grabbed a beer bottle, and was drinking it, grimacing at every gulp she swallowed. Dean could swear he had heard her mutter "Bloody watery." at least twice.

She had stared at the Winchester brothers for some time now, and they struck her as … Despondent. Down. She, who had lost everything that one fateful morning, did not find herself as desperate as they were. She wondered what they lived through to feel such sadness. But this was not the time; she had to find the Gelth, ask them what they wanted out of her planet. And maybe, just maybe, if she was very very lucky, _he_ would be there. _Stop it_, she admonished herself. _You're in another universe, you're never going to see him again_. And yet, she hoped all the same. She looked back to the Winchesters, not yet sure of what to do. She wanted to rouse them, rally them, find the words to make them fight; but the words have been taken out of her, as was her fight, she left all of it back in Norway. She had no more words for Sam and Dean.

After a long, long period of silence, Sam was the first to speak. He looked up at Rose, looked at his brother, and back down again. He cleared his throat, and simply stated : "So, what do we do about it?" Dean blinked, once, twice, three times. And looked up. They both looked at Rose as if she could save them, as if she had a solution to all their problems ready. And yet, all she had to offer was : "I don't know."

"Well, how do we kill the – the Gelth thingies ?" "Kill them ?" Rose stared at Dean, aghast. "We are not killing them. We are _not_." Dean got up, the fire back inside his eyes. "Hey, they're the ones on our planet, and we don't know why. We don't know anything about them. So yeah, we kill them. We get rid of the threat."

Anger slowly rose inside Rose. "How do you know that they're a threat ?"

"I've seen a lot of things, lady. They're always a threat."

"Well, I have seen a lot of things too. Things you wouldn't believe. I don't know about what you two hunt, I've never met angels or demons or whatever. But I've travelled, far and wide. I've gone through time and space, across galaxies and parallel universes. I've seen would-be Gods and fake Gods, and I've met Queen Victoria, and Charles Dickens. I've seen Aliens from all over, and I've even travelled with one. I've saved the Universe. Twice. I would have died to protect it, and I did die in one of them. Officially. So I know a thing or two about aliens. And it means I am in charge. I call the shots. When we hunt vampires or something, you'll be the boss. But these aren't the things that you hunt. They are not yours to condemn, Dean Winchester. And I refuse to kill the Gelth. Not if I have a choice. And I will fight you if you ever decide to."

Sam watched Dean and Rose fighting, silently, half smiling. He liked her, he decided : she was feisty. And strong. And she held her own. She was what Dean needed at the moment. But she also was the girl who tried to get them believing in aliens. That would take some convincing. He himself wanted to believe that they weren't alone in the universe, but the existence of a secret society dedicated to hunting their fallen tech was a tad too much. They weren't that different from hunters, yes, but their goal was. Aliens on Earth. Sam's mind couldn't adjust to that fact quite yet. He needed proof before he went on. He would have asked Rose about it, but she was still too busy arguing with Dean, so he grabbed his computer, his phone, Dean's car keys and left the room, brushing lightly against Rose a he did. It took the other two a minute before realising he had gone. "Where did he go ?" Rose knew the question was stupid, but she couldn't help herself. Dean shot her a look of mild disdain, and she sighed. "Okay, okay." She sat on the edge of a bed, rubbing her forehead. She felt exhausted, and she knew how important the Winchesters' experience was on this case. They knew how to hunt, she didn't. She'd always had the Doctor to help her along, give a nudge in the right direction here and there. But he wasn't here anymore, and she had to learn to rely on her own strength. "Will you help me, then ?" She looked up at Dean, who stared back but stayed silent. She waited a while for him to say something, anything, but he remained quiet. Whether he knew what to do or not, she needed him to stand up and fight, and his silence refused her the help she wanted. She got up and walked towards the door. Dean grabbed her elbow, forcing her to look at him. His voice was soft when he asked "Are they dangerous ?". "I don't know."

"How do you not know ?" Rose gulped. "I haven't met them in 200 years, Dean. I don't know what their motives might be."

Dean looked shocked, both at her words and at the shivers her saying his name sent down his spine. He let go of her arm, but they didn't move. They stood close to each other, Rose's hand almost touching him. He grit his teeth to stop from devouring her face with his eyes, and he forced himself to breathe in and out slowly. She had a flowery perfume, light and pleasant, but she smelled like salt and earth. She looked wary, tired. He recognised in her eyes the same look he saw in the mirror every day : she had lived through her own challenges, she had her own battle scars. She was beautiful despite them, or maybe because of them; he wasn't quite sure. He didn't quite care, either. Every protective bone in his body was screaming at him to take her in his arms, hold her down and tell her she would be okay, but he saw in her eyes that she would not accept his comfort. Instead, he decided on forming a plan to catch whatever was stealing bodies.

"So, what _do_ you know about them, then ?"

Rose took a deep breath. "I know that they need fresh bodies. We'll find Opal's tomorrow or the day after, depending on their initial … _freshness_." She winced. "I know they are homeless, and I know that they depend on gas, it gives them a form, a way to survive. What I don't know, though, is why now. I mean, we don't use as much gas as we used to. Back in the 1800s." "Yeah, about that. You said you met Charles Dickens ? What the hell does that mean ?"

"Sit down, Dean." It was all she told him until he obeyed and put his ass on his chair. Then, she looked him in the eye and declared : "I used to travel through time." _That's it. She's crazy_. There was no coming back from this, and Dean needed to find a way out. "Stop freaking out. It's true, I did." "Yeah, sure. I believe you." _Sure, mock her. Way to go, Dean_. Her nostrils flared, and she stood up straight, crossed her arms on her chest. "I've met Dickens, and he saved us from the Gelth, actually. I've met Queen Victoria, and saved her from a werewolf. She knighted me. She founded Torchwood because of us. I'm pretty sure you can find me or the Doctor in the archives."

"It's true, Dean. I found it. I found her." The both turned to look at Sam who was returning from the city's library. He put down his laptop, opened it, and started stating all his discoveries. "First, I started researching Torchwood. Queen Victoria did create the Organisation, at first to fight the lycanthropy running in her family." "Werewolves ?" Dean frowned. "Yeah. And get this : though the years, they were awarded more and more power and visibility. They are some sort of secret service dedicated to the advancement of the British Empire and the protection of its civilians. They are now more powerful and more influencial than the C.I.A." "What about Aliens ?" Rose answered : "Our hidden purpose. The Royal family and our leaders have been firm on that. But we badly needed the influence : you don't just let anyone take over your investigations because they asked." "Right." Sam looked back to his computer, clicked a few links, and showed it to Dean. "It got me to this. Torchwood's hidden files. Her reports are on there." "What ?" Rose lurged forward, but Sam held her back. "How did you get this ?" "I'm sorry. I took your badge from your pocket."


	3. Early Morning Search

"So you used to travel with this guy called the Doctor, right ? What kind of name is Doctor ?" Dean asked, with a stupid grin on his lips. Rose was scowling, fuming, hands in fists. "Don't." she threatened, quietly. "He is a better man than you will ever be, and he's not even _human_."

"Well, where is he ?" Sam looked at her from his laptop. Rose looked down, pretended to fiddle with the tired carpet. "He's - He's gone." she whispered, and a flash of pain coloured her face. She cleared her throat, got her head up to face them. "Anyway, now that you have proof, do you believe me ? Will you help ?"

A look passed between Sam and Dean, and they nodded. "No killing unless necessary, can you promise that ?" They nodded again, Dean somewhat reluctantly. "Okay, then.", he said, "Let's find our blue aliens." Rose chuckled softly, but didn't move. She wanted to ask one last thing to Sam and Dean. "So you guys believe that vampires are real. And demons. And zombies ! But aliens are problematic ?" "Aliens are too fucking big." "Right. And coming back from Hell isn't." She shrugged, rolling her eyes, and opened the door. She missed the look of surprise between the brothers as she turned her back to get out of the room. She had no idea where to start. Most of her "career", aliens had come to her, and rarely the contrary. But today, she'd have to hunt them down. She had no idea what they were looking for, no idea where they could be going. She'd made a quick search to see where they could be headed next, of course; but she had come up empty handed, and she didn't like it. She liked to be prepared, to know what to expect. She had had enough of surprise adventures, and what she wanted now was control. Any kind of control. She sighed, and left the two men behind as she walked into the night. _Think_, she admonished herself. _Where could they go ? What do they want ?_ Wind was whipping her cheeks, giving her colours, and her eyes scanned the darkness for something, although she couldn't quite put her finger on what she was looking for. Some answer, perhaps. A shortcut, a way back. She closed her eyes and willed herself back in the moment. Back to her problem. All she needed was a starting point, she reasoned. Something to get her going. _Think ! What do you know ? _

_I know - I know – What do I know _? She bit her lip, and started pacing on the pavement. She searched her memory to find everything she could recall from that particular adventure. She remembered feeling excited, dressing up, and his look of admiration, she remembered him, yes, every detail. She remembered the Girl, her gift of sight. What was her name again ?

She remembered being trapped in the room with two of them, and later being trapped in a cellar. She thought she was going to die, and he took her hand. _I'm so glad I met you_, he said. His voice filled her mind, and she shook her head. She needed to concentrate. What did the Gelth need ? _Bodies. Fresh_. Where could they get them ? _Morgues, funeral homes, hospitals._ They left the Opal Morgue, and they crossed the city. They were trying to come here, she thought, but why ? Why come here, and not somewhere else ? She had checked, almost every town around Opal had a morgue, or a funeral home. They could get bodies anywhere. Of course, she had thought about this town's Hospital, but no one had died in the last week. She had checked. She frowned.

It was then that it hit her. She opened her eyes, and ran back to the Winchester's motel room. They were deep in conversation, but Rose darted past them to get to the computer. She practically brutalised the keyboard as she typed in maps what she wanted to see. She felt Dean on her right, and Sam on her left, looking first at her, then at the computer. "They're trying to get to Salt Lake City." she stated, before they could speak. "They're travelling by road, that's the only way they're getting through every town. They … _switch_ bodies in every town, that's the only way they could get far."

"What's in Salt Lake City ?" "I don't know, loads of people, probably loads of dead people, too. And, if we look closely enough, we'll find a rift." She typed some words on google, hoping to find what she wanted. "A rift ?" Sam frowned, looked at the monitor. "A rift, yeah. A weak spot in Time and Space. A connection between this space, this planet, and another." Her eyes never left the screen as she was scrolling down pages, but her voice was agitated. She was talking to herself more than she was talking to the boys, but she kept going until she had given every detail she knew. "A rift bleeds energy, a constant wave of unbelievable energy. It's like … A worm hole. In both Time and Space. Pretty handy, actually. Can be used a fuel. Anyway, the rift, that's what they want, they travel through it. I'm guessing that on my side the Gelth ended up in Cardiff in 1869; while on this side, they ended up 'ere." "My side ?" Sam's voice was no louder than a whisper as he stared at this brother, eyebrows raised. Dean shook his head, and reported his attention on Rose. "So what do we do, then ?" he asked her; and Rose turned back to face them. "We find ourselves a bloody rift."

By the time they found it, it was very early the next morning, and the room looked much more like a library than it did a room. Dean had fallen asleep in a corner, his jacket on top of his legs, his right hand on his knife. Sam was still at the table, eyes locked on his computer screen, while Rose was sitting on the floor, in the middle of a huge map of Salt Lake City and dozens of various papers and pens. She'd make a red circle wherever Sam told her he found something that seemed Gelth related, and studied all the different routes they could take to get to the city. The silence was only disturbed by Sam's remarks and summaries, Rose's small noises of agreement, and Dean's muttering. At first, Rose had wanted to wake him up, make him work with them, but Sam stopped her. He needs to sleep, he said. She'd decided to obey, and let the man sleep, however disturbed. Instead, she started working with Sam, quickly figuring that he was the scholar of the two, and that he was efficient and to the point. They had understood each other quickly, to the benefit of their research, and, thanks to bad coffee and energy bars, they had stayed up all night to figure out where the weak point came out. "I can't find any more.", Sam told her around 4.30. She looked up from the map, eyes heavy and red, and insisted he go to sleep. Ignoring the bed, he crashed on the small couch, separated from Rose and his brother snoring in the corner by a decrepit and semi transparent dividing wall.

Rose rubbed her eyes and went back to work. She stared at all the red dots, trying to get them to make any sense, but, as much as she tried, they looked like random dots that were randomly placed. At random. She grunted loudly, and Dean woke with a start, brandishing his knife.

"Sorry, mate. Did I wake ya ?" Whenever she was tired, her Cockney accent rang louder. She hated that, and she cleared her throat. Dean, on the other side, did not appear to hear it, as he looked at her with wide eyes and his fingers clenched on his blade. "You alright ?" Rose frowned, and almost got up to come closer, but he shook it off and rose from the floor. "Fine.", he spit, and opened the fridge to take a drink. "So I guess I wasn't dreaming, uh ?" "Nope." Rose went back to the map and tried to concentrate, but she was drawn to the small sounds Dean made as he made his way to the table, grabbed an energy bar and tore off the wrapper, threw it in the bin. She tried to close her ears to the noise, willed herself to see the pattern the dots made. She lost what little concentration she had when Dean sat down next to her, bottle of beer in his hand. She turned her head, and eyed the bottle suspiciously, but said nothing. She didn't want to make him leave, even if she felt weirdly self-conscious having him so close to her. "So, where's the blue man group headed ?" "Blue man group ?" Rose was puzzled, and the expression on her face made Dean smile. "Never mind." Rose gulped, and cleared her throat once more. "We've identified the Gelth sightings, they're the red dots here. Now we just need to find the pattern. The origin. Our weak spot."

Dean leaned towards the map and examined it closely. With a finger, he traced possible routes, and, looking up at Rose, he asked : "And what do we do when we find it ?". She breathed in slowly. "We talk. See what they want. Consider their demands." She stared at him sweetly, knowing full well he would have a lot of trouble with that. She fiddled with her pen, not sure of what to say next. "I'll, uh, I'll talk with 'em, maybe try to find a solution." "What about the bodies ? The ones they'll have dumped ?" She felt surprised, and her eyebrows raised up furtively. She tried to hide it, but she was sure it had registered in Dean's mind, and he leaned back from her. "I'm not a monster, you know." "No, I know. It's just – yesterday you were keen on killing them." "Oh, I still am. But the people, they've done nothing. They don't deserve being left in the middle of nowhere." Rose stared at the map, not wanting to look at him. He was right, of course, but she believed that the Gelth didn't deserve to be lost, either.

She remembered the bleak house where she'd met them the first time. She remembered it less than fondly, but it was in the past, and maybe these ones were different. She rather hoped they would, actually ; she couldn't bear to lose another person. She frowned. _Of course. Gwyneth_. She had half forgotten about her. That was the solution, a psychic ! They could drive them to the weak spot, to the rift ! She turned to Dean, frantic. "Do you know any psychics ?" Dean raised his eyebrows. "Um, not personally. Why ?"

Rose got up, soon followed by Dean, and grabbed her jacket. "They can hear the Gelth. They can listen, and track them. We need to wake your brother." She started going to Sam, but Dean stopped her by putting his arm in front of her. He didn't quite touch her, but Rose felt her belly flutter a little. "It's 5 in the morning, Rose. Nobody's up. We'll find our psychic later." She opened her mouth to protest, but Dean stopped that too. "Go to sleep.", he advised. "You'll need your strength for the Smurfs." She chuckled, closing her eyes for a second, and Dean felt a pang in his chest. His heart ached a little, and he dropped his arm. _The sooner she leaves_, he thought, _the better for me_; he could see himself fall for her quite easily. But what was the point of falling if hurting was the only outcome ? In his line of work, there was no telling what could happen to him, and he already had his hands full with Sam. He resumed drinking his beer to stop thinking about any of it, certain that it would not end well. But her voice brought him back to her. "You have a thing for pop culture, don't ya ?" When he glanced up at her, she had her jackets in her hands, a smile on her lips. Once again, Dean had to fight himself not to stare at her, not to notice her. "You should sleep.", he repeated.

How old he looked then, she reflected, standing there, bow legs and plaid shirt, his right hand clutching the beer, afraid it might escape. He looked old, and ravaged; a warrior, a survivor. In that particular moment, she felt closer to him than she felt felt anyone else. He had seen what she'd seen, he'd been left behind too. He had sacrificed himself, too. He had felt the pain of death, had lived it, but couldn't tell the tale with collapsing.

"Tell you wot", she stated, the words dropping out of her mouth before she could stop them. He looked up at her, eyes darting into hers. "When we find the Gelth, when all of this is over, you and I, we'll go get pissed." Without wanting for an answer, she put on her jacket, and went to the door. Just before closing it, though, she told Dean she'd be back to fetch them at 7. Dean watched her leave, smiling. He intended to see her keep her promise.


End file.
